Tremors in the Ground
by KisstheRain14
Summary: If you really think that Mackenzie McHale is going to let Will McAvoy go home alone after getting out of the hospital, you're either incredibly naive or horribly stupid. Will manages to be both. /oneshot, post-the greater fool/


**Okay so sue me, I just have a thing for domestic (or at least attempting to be domestic) Will and Mac. Also, let's not even try to pretend that Mac would leave Will alone after he OD'ed on anti-depressants. She would totally do that whole "let me take care of you" shtick that Will exasperatedly yet willingly allows her to do.**

**So… have this. (A year or so late, but the season premiere did things to my heart.)**

* * *

"People call you Mac, for God's sake, shouldn't you be good at making this shit?" Will remarks, picking up a blue box of Kraft's finest.

Mac bites her lip, surveying the burnt noodle pieces. "I haven't even put in the powdered cheese yet," she laments, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Will turns off the stove. "Do us all a favor and don't bother. Chinese?"

"You're not having take out a week after you get out of the hospital, Billy." She jabs the wooden spoon at him with a scowl. He rolls her a look of long-suffering. "What?"

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, get out of my apartment."

"No."

"Mackenzie. Get out."

"No," she insists. "You wouldn't have taken so many damn anti-depressants if someone had been checking up on you, so here I am. A little late, granted, but better late than never - "

"I already did that broadcast about Dorothy Parker and I said I was coming back, what more do you want from me?"

"A well-stocked kitchen, for one," she replies, swinging the pantry doors open. "You have nothing in here, Will, just a bottle of scotch and - oh, clam chowder! I mean, it's in a can, but I can't fuck up _soup_, right? It's _soup. _And soup is good for people who're - who're healing or something, right? Just sit down, Billy, let me get another pot."

"You're going to burn my apartment down," Will deadpans, leaning against the counter. He is conveniently blocking the cupboard that holds pots and pans and she swats at his legs, huffing as hair falls into her eyes. "Look, this is all for the greater good. I'll order Chinese and you can go home and watch that stupid New Woman show - "

"New Girl, first of all, and second of all no, I have to talk to Neal about some website content. Will, _move._"

"I really want Kung Pao Chicken, Mac. Just let me order my damn chicken." He's staring down at her with his head tilted to one side and his arms crossed. She sighs.

"You're setting a bad example for Jim, being all bitter and cranky like that," she mutters, even as she stands back up. "Here, take your damn soup," she adds, thrusting the can into his hands.

"Thank you," he says dryly, placing it on the counter in favor of his cell phone. "Now, I'm going to call take-out. You can exit the way you - "

"Oh, shut up," she says, face scrunching up in exasperation. "Give me the phone."

He does. She rifles around in his drawers before coming up with the correct menu.

"Hi, I'd like to order delivery? Yes, I'll take a - a number seven, and a thirty. And… a number nine. Oh, and a twenty four. It does? Okay, then I'll have the vegetables. No, no, wait, I want the egg rolls instead. Yeah. Yes, that's the right address. Okay. Thank you."

Will's gaze is blank as she gives him his phone back. She smiles up at him, batting her eyelashes theatrically. "Stop that, it's creepy. Are you trying to give me heart disease?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Obesity?"

"That would tank our viewer stats."

"High cholesterol?"

"Tempting." She slips out of her heels and curls into the corner of his couch, fingers already tapping away at her own phone. "Try to keep quiet for a few minutes, I'm talking to Neal until our food comes."

"_Our_…?"

"Neal? You're not busy, are you? All right, good. Listen, I was thinking…"

Will sighs, rubbing at his forehead as he watches her gesture animatedly with her free hand. After a moment, he fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and leaves it on the table by the front door before heading into his bedroom.

Some twenty-odd minutes later, the buzzer rings and Mac hangs up, unfolding herself from the couch. She reaches for Will's wallet with practiced ease and props the door open, accepting the food with a pleased exclamation. "All right, I'm terribly sorry, give me a moment to calculate your tip - "

Will watches as she counts on her fingers, his shoulders shaking loose some of their tension.


End file.
